The Cutlery Set

Have I told you how much I loved soccer? Our neighborhood had a team, and sometimes we played teams from nearby neighborhoods. What days those were: a double-layered plastic ball and a whole childhood world to play in. For a while, though, our team kept losing. We were frustrated and perhaps losing hope. One day I called Agha Bozorg. “You love soccer and always follow the matches. Could you come watch our team play sometime? We keep losing.” “As it happens, I’m coming to your house on Thursday,” he said. “I’ll come early and watch my boy’s team.” Thursday arrived. Just as he’d promised, he came to watch us play another team. We lost again. After the game Agha Bozorg approached us with a smile. “Come to my house tomorrow at noon. I have something for you to do.” That was all. I asked again after dinner what he thought of our playing. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” The next day the boys and I went to his house. As usual, the yard gate was open. Agha Bozorg was sitting at his familiar window, waiting for us. He stood and called us inside. In the middle of the room was a box. It looked old, but it had been cleaned and polished. “That box belonged to Khanom Joon,” he said. “Open it and have a look.” I stepped forward, opened it, and found a set of cutlery. “You might need only a spoon for a bowl of soup,” he told us, “or only a fork for a salad. But over the course of a day’s meals you need the whole set. Each piece has a job and is useful in its own place. “I watched your match. I know each of you is a good player. To succeed, though, you need to make a complete set. You have to learn that you can’t eat soup with a fork or watermelon with a spoon. Good cutlery is sold as a full set, not piece by piece. “So fit yourselves together. Respect each other’s strengths and abilities. Instead of fighting alone, become a set, become a team. You’ll see that victory is easier than you thought.” My compatriot, a part of my own flesh: you and I belong to the same set. Together we’ll win this struggle. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.